


Skirting Around the Subject -- a Phil Lester Gender Struggle

by TrashFan



Category: Internet Personalities, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angsty phil, But no established relationship, Clothing, Gen, Gender Identity, Gender Related, Hurt/Comfort, I guess you could look at it that way, LGBTQ Themes, Light Angst, Not a slash, Phan Angst, Phanfiction, Phil Needs a Hug, Queer Themes, Questioning, Supportive dan, Trans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8962132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashFan/pseuds/TrashFan
Summary: It started as an accident, a series of small disasters that landed Phil standing in a train station in a skirt. From there, things seemed to spiral out of control. A google search here, a shopping trip there, and suddenly Phil is left not knowing who he is and what he wants for himself.





	1. The Train Station

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [makeup is not for boys](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7142039) by [reportdanhowell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reportdanhowell/pseuds/reportdanhowell). 



It was five days until Christmas and Phil Lester only had half of the presents he needed. It wasn’t like he didn’t care about his friends (he absolutely loved giving gifts), but between Gamingmas, holiday parties, and general procrastination, he hadn’t managed to get around to it. This complete lack of preparation was what landed him and Dan racing around Peter Jones in the short break between meeting Louise and Darcy for lunch and returning to the flat for a conference call concerning next year’s VidCon. 

Phil was trying to locate a sales person to help him check out and had somehow managed to find himself in the toy/kids area. He pushed his way through the racks of clothing, smiling slightly at the red and green sparkly toddler dresses. He didn’t know if he ever wanted to be a dad, but if he did he knew he wanted a daughter. He’d always fancied getting to pick out skirts and hair bows to surprise his child with; he would spoil her rotten. All of his past girlfriends had gotten a similar treatment with gifts of scarfs or shoes he saw that reminded him of them. Phil thought the dainty ribbons and lace on girl’s clothing was just gorgeous; he had always harbored a bit of jealousy that boy’s clothes didn’t get the same sort of variety.

After a few more moments of fruitless searching, Phil wrestled his phone out of his pocket to check the time: 1:53 pm. The trip home took around twenty minutes (and that was if the metro was running perfectly on time) and the business call started at 2:30 sharp. He swore under his breath, resituated the sweater he was buying for his mum and clearance trousers he’d found for himself that were draped on his arm and to-go cup of soda he’d taken from lunch that he was carrying, and began to jog to find an employee. He scanned racks of clothes, shelves of appliances, and mid-aisle displays for several more minutes and was about to abandon his purchases all together when he finally spotted someone. He breathed a sigh of relief and waved his hand to get the girl’s attention. She was a doe-eyed, petite thing with ginger hair; she reminded Phil of his little cousin. When she noticed him she beamed a brilliant smile and trotted over to him. 

“May I help you sir?” she chirped. Up close she looked even smaller – she couldn’t have been more than sixteen, if that.

“Yeah, I couldn’t find anyone at the front counter and I was hoping to buy these?” he posed the statement as if it were a question.

“Of course, sorry about that! Follow me please.” She began to lead him to the front of the shop, and Phil felt a little more relieved. He’d gotten a text from Dan a while ago saying that he’d meet him at the main door, so all he had to do was check out and he was golden. When they got to the register, the girl’s smile grew slightly more forced.

“Are you a rewards member?”

“Erm, no.”

“Would you like me to set you up? Today through the thirty-first we’re having a deal where-”

“I’m so sorry to be rude,” he interrupted, “but I’ve really got to be off soon or I’m going to be late, can you just…?” he said as kindly as he could. He hated to be like this to service helpers, but he really didn’t want to make himself or Dan miss the beginning of the call.

She exhaled, seeming to relax a little. “Thank god, I hate that bloody spiel.” He snorted a laugh and she giggled back and took the clothes from him. She rang up his things quickly and put them in a plastic bag. She was about to hand them across the counter when a disgruntled-looking elderly woman approached her and shoved her half-dozen bags into the poor worker’s arms. 

“Hold these, dearie! My receipt is wrong, let me just dig it out of my purse!” the woman crooned as Phil and the young girl looked at each other awkwardly. The employee tried to shift the bags to one arm in order to give Phil his two items when the woman tried to catch the bulky clutch that had slipped between her fingers, causing her to stumble forward into the worker. The shop attendant fell forward in an attempt to stay upright, flinging the plastics sacks at Phil, who in turn spilled his drink all over his stomach and legs. 

“Oh my! I am so sorry loves!” she crowed. 

Phil couldn’t help but cough out a laugh. On top of being late and stressed, he was now drenched and sticky. The liquid had saturated his tight jeans completely and he could feel the soda dripping down his outer thighs and across his calves. 

“It’s fine, really, I just- erm, here,” he stuttered, stooping quickly to pick up his cup and the bags. He placed everything on the countertop and took back his sack. 

“Let me at least help you clean yourself up son,” she said.

“Thank you ma’am, but I do need to go. Have nice days ladies!” he said as he turned and half-ran, half-jogged to the exit. The slight wind resistance on his soaked clothes made him shiver; he was not excited for the ride back to the flat.

Standing in the corner of the doorway, fingers drumming on his crossed arms, was Daniel Howell. He threw up his hands impatiently when he saw his friend approaching, but he cracked a smile when he noticed what state the man was in.

“What happened to you?!”

“I’ll explain later,” Phil huffed, already out of breath. “Let’s go.”

The pair hurried out of the shop and down the street, not stopping until they had swiped their cards and were on the platform. When they finally stopped, Phil bent over and inhaled a few times.

“Fuck,” Dan hissed.

“What?”

“Look at the board; our car is late. It’ll be another fifteen minutes.” 

Phil groaned. “Perfect.”

Dan shook his head in exasperation but then cracked up when he took in his companion’s appearance again.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?”

Phil waved a hand in dismissal. “Some lady shoved bags everywhere and made me spill my soda on myself. It wasn’t even worth the trip, I only got two things.” He gasped as he remembered. “I bought myself trousers! I’m going to go to the loo and change.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Just be back soon.”

Phil was almost giddy he was so excited to get out of his clinging, sugar-soaked pants. He grinned like an idiot as he entered the toilet, wet some paper napkins to wash himself off with, and locked himself in a cubicle to change. He grimaced as he pulled off his bottoms; they’d been tight enough dry, soaking he had to shimmy to get them down. He sat himself on the edge of the seat and gave his legs a quick wipe-down. When he reached into his shopping bag, his hand fell upon a fabric he didn’t recognize – it felt much stiffer than either of the items he’d bought. Phil pulled it out and cocked his head to the side in confusion; he was holding a baby blue, posh-looking scarf. He peered into the bag and saw a necklace case and several other unfamiliar balled-up pieces of cloth. He groaned when it dawned on him what had happened; in all the hurry and mayhem he must have grabbed one of the elderly woman’s bags instead of his own. He looked down at the wet, scrunched up denim around his ankles and shuddered at the thought of trying to pull them back over himself. He’d bent down to grip one of his belt loops to begin the process before an idea hit him. He slowly reached into the bag and pulled out another of the items: a peach blouse with ruffles under the bust. He put it back and grabbed another: a stretchy, mid-length black skirt with white polka-dots and three buttons in the front. He shook his head and shrugged, figuring it was just a short ride back to the flat anyway.

With the skirt on and soggy pants in the bag, Phil nervously unlatched the cubicle door. He poked his head out, and when he saw no one he walked to the mirror. It actually fit rather well – it didn’t feel tight and it fell to the top of his knees. But more than that, he actually thought it looked…nice. He knew fully well that it was an odd sight, a girly piece of clothing set against his masculine, hairy legs, but he didn’t think it was a bad sort of odd. Looking around again for anyone in the bathroom, he spun on one foot and laughed at how the edges of the skirt lifted up a little in the wind. He took a breath and tried to shake out some of his anxiety. Just one train ride. It was just one train ride.

He tried to walk confidently with his head up, ignoring the double takes and stares he noticed from select members of the crowd. He was doing rather well with this until he heard a rumbling laugh from Dan. He smiled shyly and looked down into his chest.

“What’re you wearing?” Dan asked, his voice up an octave in amusement.

“When the old lady tripped, our bags must’ve gotten mixed up. This is all I had.” When Dan looked like he was about to speak again, he added “And you shut it.”

Dan smirked and shrugged, and Phil nudged him jokingly. They stood on the platform staring at their respective phones until the metro finally came. To their surprise, it wasn’t all that busy and there was a handful of open seats. Phil looked at the chair hesitantly and tried to use his hands to smooth the skirt to the back of his legs as he sat, like he had noticed girls do countless times. It felt weird, having to focus so much on keeping his knees together, but pinching and moving the fringe between the pads of his fingers gave him a satisfying feeling of tranquility he couldn’t quite explain. He tried jiggling his legs up and down to watch it bounce, and he felt a smile crease his face. Phil lifted his head to see Dan looking at him with a quizzical expression on his face.

“What? It’s entertaining!” Dan threw his hands up by his shoulders in defense.

“Hey mate, no judgement here.”

“Bug off,” he said, smiling in spite of himself.


	2. The Dragonfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He began to chew on his bottom lip. He closed his eyes, and scenes began to play his lids. Age 6 – he was standing in the middle of a store, holding baby blue tennis shoes, his mum saying that no Phillip, those are girl’s shoes, look at the flowers. Age 10 – he’s asking his friend’s sister how she braided her hair like that, and getting called a poof for it. Secondary school – his acquaintance from maths class comes in with pierced ears. Phil is about to compliment him on them, but a chav interrupts and calls the boy a fag. TATINOF – Ten minutes before the first performance. Phil asks Dan how his stage makeup looks. Dan chuckles nervously and says “We look like pansies. But hot pansies.” Phil tries to hide his wince. 
> 
> All of those incidents had stayed in Phil’s memory so vividly; they were significant to him in a way he could never really explain. He let his eyelids flutter open and looked at his figure in the glass. Maybe this was why.

Phil didn’t even know what he was doing on his laptop anymore. He started off with answering some work emails, then it turned into research for the gaming channel, and before he knew what happened it was one in the morning and he was looking up details on the evolution of the black-bellied whistling duck. He closed his computer and sighed in defeat, he supposed he ought to turn in for the night. He looked around his room for wherever he threw his contact case when his eyes fell upon the pile of clothes he let build up in the corner. Right on top was a ball of black with white dots. He bit his lip, slowly shifted his laptop to the side, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He walked over, squatted, and carefully picked up the skirt. He’d taken it off once the conference call was over; he was so comfortable in it he didn’t even remember it was on until he stood up from his desk and felt it shift. Studying it more closely he realized the small buttons on the front were a little shiny with specks of sparkles in them. He walked over slowly and locked his bedroom door.

He went to his mirror and looked at himself, stood there in pajamas with the small skirt clutched in his hands. Staring into his own eyes, he saw an odd light there: a childlike excitement he hadn’t felt in ages. He slid his thumbs under the waistband of his sweats and pulled them off, tugging the skirt up in its place. Phil swayed back and forth lightly and heard himself giggle – actually giggle. Pursing his lips, he stepped over to the discarded shopping bag and pulled out the peach blouse. He grabbed the back collar of his tee shirt and whipped it off. He stood there a second, looking at his strange reflection. He had never been muscular or athletic, far from it, but he wasn’t exactly boyish or feminine. Phil looked at his flat chest and broad(er) shoulders. The fabric dangling loosely around his knees was certainly unusual for him, but it didn’t feel wrong. He knew what he looked like: a grown ass man standing in a young woman’s clothes. But why did society have to label that as a bad thing? Who decided that boys weren’t allowed this stuff, anyway?

He pulled the blouse on and shifted uncomfortably. The waist and shoulders were too tight and the bust ballooned out to allow for the chest he didn’t have. He tugged at it in a few different places in an effort to get it to settle, but nothing worked. He reached down and dumped out the remaining contents of the shopping bag. He spread the items out and took inventory: the blue scarf, his damp jeans, a necklace case, and a package of plain white socks. Phil picked up the case, popped it open, and audibly gasped. Inside was a thin gold chain with a blue and green winged dragonfly pendant. He fumbled to get the cardboard backing off and plastic twist holds unwound. He felt guilty, the jewelry looked expensive, but he had no idea how he would even begin to try to return it. Besides, he was enchanted by the way it shimmered when it moved. 

When he finally got it around his neck, he looked again at his reflection. The juxtaposition of the pendant against his adam’s apple was oddly satisfying, but the blouse still made him physically and aesthetically uncomfortable. He pulled it off and headed over to his drawers. After rooting around for a minute, he found an item that seemed suitable: a relatively tight black tank top he only ever wore underneath other layers. He put it on, returned to the mirror, and beamed at himself. Phil was completely lost as to whether he was doing the whole feminine fashion thing right; was he supposed to have matched the skirt and shirt? Should he have done a white shirt to match the dots on the skirt? Did the necklace clash, or was it an accent? He smiled harshly at his idle worry. By society’s standards, he was pretty sure all of this was a no-go. For Christ’s sake, the world had decided that there were certain colors weren’t even available to men, much less sparkling dragonflies and skirts.

He began to chew on his bottom lip. He closed his eyes, and scenes began to play his lids. Age 6 – he was standing in the middle of a store, holding baby blue tennis shoes, his mum saying that no Phillip, those are girl’s shoes, look at the flowers. Age 10 – he’s asking his friend’s sister how she braided her hair like that, and getting called a poof for it. Secondary school – his acquaintance from maths class comes in with pierced ears. Phil is about to compliment him on them, but a chav interrupts and calls the boy a fag. TATINOF – Ten minutes before the first performance. Phil asks Dan how his stage makeup looks. Dan chuckles nervously and says “We look like pansies. But hot pansies.” Phil tries to hide his wince. 

That most recent one had stung the most. Phil told himself that it shouldn’t have hurt him like that, it wasn’t like he was gay. Well… he was pretty sure he didn’t like guys. In all honesty, he just let himself fancy who he fancied, and so far they had all been girls. And he knew Dan wasn’t actually homophobic in the least, he just didn’t always think before he spoke. All of those incidents had stayed in Phil’s memory so vividly; they were significant to him in a way he could never really explain. He let his eyelids flutter open and looked at his figure in the glass. Maybe this was why. 

Suddenly he felt the sting that always seems to accompany tears, and his hand flew to his hair to tug on it in frustration. He lurched forward and gripped the sides of his mirror, pushing it up and unmounting it from the wall. He slammed it against the wall of his bedroom and shoved it to the left, tucking it behind the wardrobe and out of sight. He took a shuddering breath. Why was he so upset all the sudden? Wasn’t he smiling and laughing not thirty seconds ago? This was ridiculous. It wasn’t like he’d ever been uncomfortable with being a guy. True, he’d not been the manliest of men, but so what? He was still a guy, and this wasn’t how guys acted. He bent down to wrench off the skirt, and with that motion he felt hot, wet drops stream down his cheeks. Of course he would start crying now, it was exactly what he needed. He wiped the tears off with his fist and kicked the skirt away from where it lay around his ankles. It wasn’t until he was lying face down on his bed that he realized he’d not taken off the necklace. He lifted his arms to do so, but he just…couldn’t. Phil knew it was irrational, but it felt like if he took the dragonfly from around his neck right then, he would never put it back on. And the thought of never again swaying and giggling in front of a mirror felt incredibly dull and tedious. It had felt too good – and that scared the living crap out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! If you comment saying what you liked or didn't like about this chapter, I'll know how to guide the rest of the story! <3


	3. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan lunged forward at the bag. Phil cried out in surprise and flailed backwards, trying to keep the sack out of reach. Dan swerved to the right and grasped the plastic handle. In his state of complete panic, Phil did the only thing he could think of; he placed his hand on Dan’s chest and pushed into him. Hard.

Phil had never really minded being tall. It let him see the stage at concerts, friends could easily find him in a crowd, and he could always reach the top shelves of things. But in that moment, he wished he could be four feet tall. Or invisible; invisible would work too. When he’d decided to go back to Peter Jones, he swore to himself that it would only be to find another copy of the jumper for his mum. And that’s what he had done…but he wasn’t really in a hurry, was he? At least, that’s what was going through Phil’s mind as he drifted towards the rack of maroon and indigo blouses that’d caught his eye.

Things were fine at first. He was idly flipping through the hangers while telling himself that he was simply looking for potential gifts for friends. He was having a fine time, until he turned around and found himself face-to-face with the doe-eyed sales girl from the previous day.

“Hello again, sir! Find everything you’re looking for?” she asked.

“Erm, yeah, I – yeah, just fine,” Phil stuttered.

“What’ve you got?”

He looked down at the red cardigan he happened to have in his hand. Words failing him, he just sort of lifted it up closer to the girl. He wished he could melt into the carpet.

“Nice choice. Who’s it for?”

He froze, beginning to panic. He just needed to think of a name. Susan. No, wait, Susan sounded like a fake name. Jennica? No, that was two names combined. Oh god, he couldn’t think of a single girl’s name and the employee was starting to look at him strangely. “My girlfriend,” he eventually breathed.

She smiled reassuringly. “Is red her favorite color?”

He looked down, suddenly becoming aware he was still half-holding up the shirt to her like an offering. He flushed and put it back on the rack. “Er, no. I – she actually really likes blue.”

The girl pursed her lips. “Hmm, I’m afraid we don’t have that item in blue, but we have a whole selection of shirts over here in blues, blacks, and pinks. Would you like me to take you to them?”

“I wouldn’t want to bother you…”

“It wouldn’t be a bother! It’s this or stocking the kitchenware.”

Phil couldn’t see a polite way out of this spiral of lies, so he nodded silently and followed the smiling teenager to a rack of different tops. There were all sorts of fabrics and styles and lengths, he didn’t know quite what he was looking it. 

“Do you see anything you think she would like?” asked the employee.

Phil looked around. A lot of the clothing seemed to have deep V-necks or embellishments on the chest, and he cringed as he thought back to the blouse from yesterday. Then he saw a line of tops in the bottom right corner. They were fairly basic, and the sleeves ended right as shoulder turned into arm. What drew his attention was the fact that over the loose, midnight blue button-up was a white collar like you might find on a man’s dress shirt; one with two triangular pieces of cloth pointing down. The bottom of the shirt was rounded and hung down pretty far. He grinned and pointed to it.

“Ooh, I love this one! I have it in two colors,” the girl gushed. “What size does she wear?”

“Medium.”

“No, size in numerals.”

“Oh, thirty-two/thirty-four,” he said. 

She looked back at him and furrowed her eyebrows. “What?”

Phil blinked slowly. What had he said wrong? He was starting to panic. “Oh wait, I think she said…thirty…?”

The employee licked her lips. “That would be in our plus-sized section, which isn’t quite medium. So erm…which is it?”

He cursed himself internally; he’d completely forgotten that women’s clothes had an entirely different sizing system. “Uh…” he shifted uncomfortably and looked down.

“Is your girlfriend a bit bigger and curvier? Or closer to my size?” she asked gently, trying to help him out.

He shut his eyes and began shaking his head. “I d-don’t have a girlfriend,” he confessed.

The worker cocked her head to the side. “What’d you mean, sir? Then who’s it for?”

Phil could feel his heart hammering in his chest so hard he couldn’t breathe properly. He wondered if it would be acceptable to run away or fake a fainting spell. He realized his eyes were growing wide with horror, and he knew with every passing second the situation was getting weirder and weirder. He swallowed hard. “It’s for someone about my size,” he took a breath. “About…exactly my size.”

“What…oh. Oh! Okay!” she said. Suddenly the look of confusion was replaced with an encouraging smile. “So you – or uh, she – is a thirty-two/thirty-four in men’s?” he nodded sheepishly. “Hmm, I think that would be about a twelve.” She turned around, flipped through the hangers, pulled one out from the middle of the rack, and held it up against Phil’s body. “Does this look about right?”

Phil was completely taken aback. Why wasn’t this girl telling him he was in the wrong section of the store or saying he might be better suited with something else? He couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “Yeah, I think…yeah. It looks good.”

The employee handed the blouse to him, looked around, and leaned in close. “Dressing rooms are over near the shoes. Or if you’d not like to, keep the receipt in case it doesn’t fit.” When Phil could only respond with a stunned nod, she added, “The color will look great with your skin tone. Call me over if you need anything else, okay?” She leaned away again and waited for a moment, expectant. When Phil remained silent, she offered him a gentle smile. “Have a nice day, sir.” She paused, seeming to realize something. “Or not. Just have a nice day…you.”

 

Phil couldn’t help obsessing over the interaction the entire way home; he couldn’t believe it had really happened. The sales girl just went with it, no questions asked. Thinking about the worker’s smile and peeking into his shopping filled him with an excited buzz that he had to keep reminding himself not to get carried away by. He’d met one person who didn’t seem to care what section of a store he bought clothes from, so what? How many did he know who would care? Besides, it was her job to sell him things, she probably was freaked out and just hid it until he’d left. He knew fully well that this wasn’t the year 1990, people acting differently wasn’t unheard of, but how well was that going for people who chose to vary from what society expected? Look what was happening in America – people were talking about genital checks just to go to the loo. It wasn’t like Phil had it bad. He didn’t resent his body or name; he was just frustrated that it came with expectations of how to dress and act and be. He wasn’t even unhappy with how he’d been living his life thus far, he only wished he didn’t feel restricted to that set of behaviors. 

These thoughts were swirling so fast in his head, at first he didn’t hear his flat mate calling to him when he returned home. 

“Oi! Earth to Phil!”

“Hmm? Sorry, what?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“I thought you were grabbing a jumper you’d already picked out. What took you so long?”

“Nothing! Nothing.”

Dan looked up from his laptop and began to shift from his browsing position on the couch. “Somebody’s defensive. Got something in there for me?”

“No, I don’t,” Phil said.

The younger man pushed himself up from the sofa and took a step towards his friend. “Oh really? So you wouldn’t mind if I took a look then?” he said with a mischievous grin.

Phil felt his face burn red and he shifted the bag so it was behind his back. “No. It’s none of your bloody business what I buy.”

Dan snorted and smiled. “Yeah, because we’ve only lived with each other for more than half a decade and spent months restricted to living on a bus together. We keep ultimate privacy from each other. What do you have for me?”

“I told you, nothing,” he grunted, trying to summon every bit of intensity he had in his being into that one sentence, but he sounded ridiculous even to himself. He was trying to think of what else to say to get Dan off his back, but before he had the chance to, Dan lunged forward at the bag. He cried out in surprise and flailed backwards, trying to keep the sack out of reach. Dan swerved to the right and grasped the plastic handle. In his state of complete panic, Phil did the only thing he could think of; he placed his hand on Dan’s chest and pushed into him. Hard. Both fighters’ eyes widened in surprise as Dan stumbled backwards, landing on his arse while Phil look a step to steady himself, panting. There was an infinite moment of silence as the two stared at each other disbelief. 

“What the hell?” Dan whispered slowly. Phil wished he had screamed it – it would have hurt less. He looked down feeling ashamed.

“I told you not to,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I got that.”

Phil knew he ought to apologize, but he couldn’t find the words when his heart was still going a thousand beats a minute. Instead he stiffened his lower jaw, took a step forward, and held out his hand to help his friend up. Dan stared at it, bent his knees in front of him, and pushed himself up without taking the assistance. The two made direct eye contact, both seeming to realize the hurt in the other one’s expression without knowing what to do about it. The last thing Phil ever wanted to do was harm Dan, but all he could think about was what would’ve happened if Dan had managed to get the bag. What his best friend would think of him if he knew. Phil swallowed hard and turned away.

“I told you not to,” he said and walked away.


	4. The Hypothetical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan looked up and offered a curt smile, which Phil returned. That was the only communication they shared for an hour. It was definitely weird, but at least they were in the same room again. It was such an odd situation; they weren’t exactly in a fight or anything. It was more of a mutual confusion that neither of them knew how to begin to sort out.

The holidays that year were hard for Phil for two reasons. One, because it was odd to suddenly be wrenched away from the things he’d been obsessing over lately. At his mum’s house, he felt he had to dress exactly as he had been his whole life. Which should have been fine, he told himself. He’d only been reconsidering his self-expression for a short little bit, it shouldn’t have made that big of a difference. But searching through more classically feminine things had fascinated him recently, and he felt colder without looking at his dragonfly pendant sparkling at night to cheer him up. He felt really stupid, but he couldn’t help but mope about sometimes.

Two, because things with Dan were definitely off. The flat mates put on an act for the camera to finish up Gamingmas, but other than that they tended to avoid each other. When Phil went north for a few days to be with his family for Christmas, his goodbye to Dan was, “Left the flat, grabbed the present from you with my name on it. Yours is under the tree. See you on the 26th.” For first time in their friendship they didn’t wish each other Happy Christmas.

Phil had hoped that the time apart would smooth things over and they could move on and forget anything had happened, but he quickly realized that wasn’t the case. It was pretty common for the pair to spend several days not doing much more than surfing the web, but they almost always browsed on the couch together. But the boys spent the first day and a half after Phil got back practically locked in their respective rooms. They had never been like this before; there was no protocol for how to fix the situation.

Phil knew things couldn’t stay like this, he would miss his friend too much. That’s why midway through the second day when Phil spotted Dan Netflixing with headphones on the sofa, he swallowed his pride and sat down in his usual position. Dan looked up and offered a curt smile, which Phil returned. That was the only communication they shared for an hour. It was definitely weird, but at least they were in the same room again. It was such an odd situation; they weren’t exactly in a fight or anything. It was more of a mutual confusion that neither of them knew how to begin to sort out. 

After a while of silent couch sitting, Phil decided that Dan might do well with some space, so he got up to spend some time in his bedroom. After three steps, he was jerked to a halt by the charging cord anchoring the phone in his hand to the wall. He had only halfway turned around to fix the issue when something crashed into his body. He staggered to keep his balance and looked over just in time to see his friend stumbling as well. Phil managed to stay upright; Dan did not. The brunette fell and landed on his back, legs splayed in front of him. They both froze – they were in the exact same position they’d been in during the fight: Dan on his arse with Phil towering above him. One look into the other man’s eyes and each knew the other one realized it too. Phil stuttered about his phone cord while Dan gave a half-formed explanation about how he’d been trying to get up to get a snack. 

The two quickly fell back into silence and just stared at each other, neither knowing what to say. How had they let a relatively minor squabble do this to them? Phil took a step forward and extended his hand, exactly as he had before, but this time Dan took it and used it to pull himself up.

“Sorry,” they burst out, practically simultaneously. They chuckled nervously. They nodded at each other and offered soft smiles. The great thing about living with someone for so long was that sometimes, things were just understood. Without stating it, both friends knew that they weren’t just apologizing for the accidental collision, and that they were forgiven.

The older one unplugged his phone and was beginning to turn back towards his room again when he was stopped. 

“Wait,” Dan called softy.

Phil faced him. “Yeah?”

The brunette looped his thumbs in his pockets nervously. “What’s up with you?”

“W-what do you mean?”

Dan sighed. “You’ve been…off lately, and this morning your mum called me to say you seemed really reserved and distant over holiday. She asked me to watch out for you. She’s worried about you, and honestly I am too.”

Phil blushed and looked down. He felt so dumb. Nothing was actually wrong, and he was being so dramatic it was starting to scare his loved ones. “I’m fine, nothing’s up.”

“Phil.”

“What?” he asked.

“Just…please.”

Phil ran a hand through his hair. This was ridiculous. Even if he wanted to explain it, even if he knew the answers himself, he wouldn’t know how to start. “Don’t worry about it.”

Dan looked at him with a sense of earnest he wasn’t used to seeing. “You know you can talk to me.” Phil looked down at the carpet and stayed silent. “Whatever it is mate, I won’t judge you.”

The older friend bit his lip, trying to find the words. “Hypothetically, IF something was going on, which it isn’t, I would know that. I would know you’d try. But for some things trying isn’t enough. There are some things that would change the way you see me, even if you didn’t mean them to.”

Dan furrowed his eyebrows. “What’d you mean?”

“I’m saying that I would never want things to get awkward between us. We would try for things to stay the same, but there are pieces of information you just can’t look at someone the same way after knowing,” Phil breathed shakily, his fists squeezing so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Phil, I don’t understand what yo–”

“IF something were going on. But it’s not. I’m fine.”


	5. The Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It felt like every organ in Phil’s body had dropped to the bottom of his stomach. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t even make himself yell or hide. The only thought going through his mind was ‘Oh god he saw how long’s he been there what’s he going to do my plans are ruined he-knows-I-am-a-freak-god-kill-me-please.’

Agender, bigender, cross-dresser, feminine-of-center, masculine-of-center, gender fluid, gender non-conforming, genderqueer, gender variant, third gender; the list went on and on. Phil felt dizzy trying to take them all in at once. Reading through the terms and definitions was supposed to clear things up for him, but he felt more confused than ever. Some of the explanations seemed to apply to him, but then he would see another that might fit better. And there were all these flags and colors and symbols and communities; how did he know which one he belonged to? How was he supposed to know if he belonged to one at all?

He watched the page of definitions disappear as he closed his laptop and sighed. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Phil knew he ought to be getting ready to head out to the New Year’s party Dan and he were going to at a friend’s, but he wished he could just curl up, go to sleep, and wake up understanding everything perfectly. But he knew that that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Whenever Dan had an existential crisis, Phil would get a knock on his door and they would talk it through until the problem seemed a little less crushing. This was the first time Phil wished he could switch positions.

He bit the inside of his cheek, walked over to the ever-growing mound of clothing in the corner of his room, and picked up the sack from yet another trip he’d taken to Peter Jones. He’d found the doe-eyed employee (Clarke, she was called), and with her help he’d left the store triumphant with a single purchase. He took a deep breath as he stripped and pulled the article of clothing on. Shaking hands fastened the dragonfly pendant around his neck and slid the mirror out from behind the wardrobe. Phil looked down at his wiggling toes and thought ‘It’s fine. You’re just a person in their room trying on clothes. It’s fine.’ He lifted his head and felt a smile spread across his face.

Clarke had been right; the dress went fantastically with his hair. He took in the figure standing before him with a giddy sort of awe. The dress the two of them had picked out had a plain black top, cut like a tee shirt without the sleeves. It was slightly gathered at the waist, and its skirt fell down to his knees in gentle folds like purposeful wrinkles. The edge of each wrinkle was black, the space in-between white. Clarke had told him it was a versatile piece for anything from everyday wear to casual cocktail. Of course, Phil hasn’t planning to wear it to anything outside of his bedroom; he’d just wanted something that would go with his necklace. 

He shifted his body from side to side and chuckled at the way the bottom of the skirt swooshed and the dragonfly sparkled. He liked himself done up like this, it made him feel something he couldn’t quite put his finger on and could only describe as “glimmer-y.” He licked his lips. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. He could keep up the routine he’d picked up this past week: dress in “normal” clothes for the world and put on his secret treasures from the department store in the safety of his own room. He could let himself have this joy without upturning life as he knew it. The way Phil saw things, this was to be a secret between him and his mirror. As long as no one else found out, he could enjoy this simple pleasure.

A call from his flat mate caused Phil to jump. They must really be getting late if Dan was the one pushing him to leave instead of vice-versa. He picked up the black jeans he was planning to wear and started to bend down to put them on before he paused. He couldn’t help but imagine what would happen if he turned up at the party in what he had on. In reality, he would get concerned looks, harsh whispers, and uncomfortable questions. But in a different world…maybe it would be fine. He would show up in the dress and it would be just as if anyone else had done it. Louise would complement his clothes. Hazel would ask where he got the necklace. People would still see him as the person they’d known for years.

Phil didn’t realize he’d started crying until the first drop fell from his chin to the floor. No matter how much he wished he lived in that different world, he knew it would never be like that. The idea that the only person he would ever show his outfits off to was himself was suddenly a crushingly heavy prospect. He swished his body from side to side a little and forced a melancholy smile.

“Maybe someday,” he whispered to himself. It wasn’t until he turned his body slightly to begin to undress that he saw: over his shoulder in the mirror was Dan, frozen in the doorway with his hand still on the knob. It felt like every organ in Phil’s body had dropped to the bottom of his stomach. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t even make himself yell or hide. The only thought going through his mind was ‘Oh god he saw how long’s he been there what’s he going to do my plans are ruined he-knows-I-am-a-freak-god-kill-me-please.’

Who knows how long he would have been stuck in that mental spiral if Dan hadn’t spoken. “S-sorry. Should’ve knocked…th-thought we’d be late…”

The sound of his friend’s voice knocked something loose within Phil and he whirled around to look at Dan face-to-face, not just in the mirror. “Of course you should have bloody knocked! It’s my room! You can’t j-j-just-just –”

Dan put his hands up in defense, looking genuinely frightened. “Sorry, you’re right, you’re totally right. But… Phil, you know –”

“I don’t need to know anything from you!” At this point he started stalking towards where the other man was standing, and Dan took an equal amount of steps backwards. “I don’t need to hear what you’ve got to say!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I wish that I… shit. Fuck. I’m sorry. I – ”

The rest of the sentence was cut off by the crash of Phil slamming the door and the click of the lock. He threw his back against the door and let himself slide to the ground in a heap.

“Phil, can we talk?” Dan asked quietly.

“No. Just go! Go to the party, okay? That’s all I want.”

“Are you com –”

“No,” Phil interrupted. “Tell them I’m ill. Please, if you care about me at all, you’ll just leave.”

“Phil, it –”

“JUST LEAVE.”

Dan sighed, but then Phil heard retreating footsteps. It wasn’t until the thump of the front door closing echoed throughout the flat that Phil let the building sobs escape his chest. Everything was ruined. Just when he’d figured out a plan to have it both ways, Dan had to go and spoil everything. He wasn’t ready for the entire dynamic of his closest friendship to be turned on its head. He raked his fingers through his hair as he tried to think of anything he could do to save himself. He considered lying and saying it was for a video or project, but he knew Dan wasn’t daft. He would know that Phil wouldn’t’ve reacted that way if it didn’t mean anything. Phil cursed himself for freaking out; if he’d just kept his cool he might have been able to get out of the situation. 

Still choking back sobs, he stood and practically ripped the dress off of himself. A part of him wanted to just break the necklace chain, letting it cut into his neck as he pulled, but he didn’t. Even in that moment of complete destitution, he knew he would regret it. He groped around the pile of clothes and put on the first trousers and tee shirt he could find. Phil shut down his mobile, his laptop, everything that connected him to the outside world. He needed to be alone. He wanted to fully absorb the last few hours before his life changed completely.


	6. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t want to change anything. Besides, how do I talk about something when I don’t even know what it is? If I could definitively say something like ‘Oi mate, I’m gender fluid,’ that would be one thing. But I just…I have no idea.”

Growing up, Phil always prided himself on his ability to marathon sleep. His body would wake him up at a (partially) reasonable time, but as long as he didn’t move too much, he’d always been able to go right back to dreaming for another few hours. He’d repeat this process several times until his hours of sleep were solidly in the double digits. 

This was how Phil started the New Year. He fell asleep when Dan left for the party at around seven at night, and didn’t actually get out of bed until noon, and even then it was only to walk across his room to retrieve his laptop. He couldn’t handle seeing Dan; he was doing everything he could to ignore the issue and forget that anything had happened. Every half hour or so there’d be a knock on his bedroom door, but he blew it off every time. He wasn’t ready. Around two he knew he would have to suck it up as his bladder was not going to wait any longer.

After using the toilet, Phil stood in front of the bathroom mirror trying not to freak out. Perhaps if he just took a deep breath he could stay solid throughout whatever conversation was waiting for him. As long as he could keep basic composure, it would be fine. He bit down on his lip and closed his eyes. He wanted nothing more for things to be exactly as they had been, but he wasn’t dumb. Things were going to change; he just hoped it would be bearable. 

Phil left the bathroom and sat himself on the living room sofa still in the tee shirt and sweats from last night. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t have to – Dan must’ve heard him come out and went to the couch on his own. He didn’t sit though, he just looked at his friend.

“I’d like to give you your birthday present early,” Dan said. Phil furrowed his eyebrows, sure he must have heard wrong. What the hell was this about? “Please? It’s really important.”

Phil hesitated then nodded, and Dan disappeared to his bedroom. In his brief absence, Phil ran a hand through his hair. He had tried to brace himself for every possible reaction, but this one was definitely a surprise. 

Dan returned and presented the older man with a small gift bag. Phil took it slowly as Dan sunk down into his own seat on the sofa. A million different thoughts raced through his head about what the gift could be, but each seemed less likely than the last. Shaky hands pulled a rectangular box from the tissue paper and hesitantly popped it open. Phil could feel his jaw drop open and his heart skip a beat. He looked up at his friend in confusion.

“I wanted to get you something, but I didn’t know your size. I thought this kinda went with the necklace I saw. I dunno, I’ve no idea about these things,” Dan said with a soft, sincere smile. 

Phil was at a loss for words. “I-it-it’s beautiful,” he breathed. “But I don’t…I guess…why’d you…?”

“I was thinking about what you said a while back about things being uncomfortable ‘once you know certain things.’ I can’t promise I won’t ever be an awkward shit, because that’s who I am as a person,” he exhaled a laugh, “but I wanted to show you I’ll try. I dunno mate, I guess I don’t see a whole lot of difference between this and if I wanted to change my aesthetic to something other than solid black everything.”

Phil swallowed, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. He needed a second to process these words, so he busied himself by taking a painstaking about of time to get the gift out of its box and around his wrist. He looked down at his new prize: a golden-chained bracelet with sapphire flowers accented with emerald leafs. He doubted he could have chosen better himself.

He wasn’t sure where this sensitive, semi-articulate Dan came from, but he’d arrived at the exact right time. Eventually he cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

“No problem. You know you can talk to me about this stuff, yeah?”

Phil waved his hand dismissively. “You’re sweet, but you don’t really want to hear about it.”

Dan pulled his legs up and folded them in front of himself on the sofa. “Try me. I might not get all of it, but I want to know what’s been up with you lately. Please.”

Those words were all that Phil needed. From the moment in the train station to the incident the previous night, he told Dan everything that had been going on in his head for the past two weeks. He told him about Clarke and hiding the mirror and the abundance of terminology he’d found online. Throughout all of it, Dan just listened silently, offering nothing but nods and “mmm hmm”s. 

Phil had no idea how long he’d been ranting for, but eventually he found himself completely exhausted. “So…yeah,” he finished.

Dan waited a minute, seemingly to make sure his friend was really done. “Why didn’t you mention any of this to me?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to change anything. Besides, how do I talk about something when I don’t even know what it is? If I could definitively say something like ‘Oi mate, I’m gender fluid,’ that would be one thing. But I just…I have no idea.”

Dan paused for a second, licking his lip slowly. “Are you still called Phil?”

He did a double take, surprised at the direction of conversation. “Uh, yeah? Yeah.”

“And when other people talk about you, do you still want to be called ‘he’?”

“Um…to be quite honest I don’t really care one way or another. That’s what people’ve always done, it’s easiest, so sure,” Phil said.

Dan nodded. “Why do you need anything else? I might be completely wrong, it’s not like I’ve ever been through this, but if you’re happy and you know how you want to be referred to, why do you need a label?”

Phil opened his mouth, but closed it again when he found no words. He’d not thought about it like that. “If people knew they would try to find a label for me.”

“So let them. To me, you’ll always just be Phil. Why can’t that work for you too?”

He tried to think of an argument, but nothing came. He’d been an idiot for not talking to Dan about this sooner, but fear can do funny things to a person. He smiled, nodded, and flipped on some Netflix. Phil had been right, things had changed between them -- but it was definitely for the better. As he looked down at his new bracelet periodically throughout the show, he felt that same feeling of giddy excitement. He was thrilled that he had someone to share it with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This seems kind of conclusion-y, but I promise there is another chapter. This installation was the one I was most excited to write, so any thoughts would be much appreciated!


	7. The Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was too much for Phil; he’d headed to his bedroom to change into trousers and a button down three times, but each time he turned back. He wouldn’t allow himself to chicken out now. He couldn’t. He began pacing the living room. He couldn’t decide if he wished she’d get there already or if he wanted her not to show at all.

“What do you think?”

“Hmm, maybe. Worth sending a picture?”

“Why not,” Phil said, as he handed his phone to Clarke and posed purposefully awkward as she snapped a photo. “What was that, number three?”

“Four.”

“Make sure to put numbers in the texts, Dan won’t know how to differentiate otherwise.”

“Right,” Clarke said, pressing send. Phil smiled at her; initially he’d been hesitant about returning yet again for fear of coming off as a creep, but she’d seemed genuinely excited to see him again. He doubted that shop work offered too terribly many chances to give extended fashion advice, and she seemed to enjoy it. She cleared her throat. “Are you sure you don’t want to try number, uh, five I guess it would be?”

He chewed on his lip. “Do you think it’d be too much?”

Clarke shrugged. “It depends on what you want. I like it, but if you don’t want to be too bold…”

Phil scratched his ear and shifted his weight. “I’ll just try it on. I might not even send Dan a picture,” he said tentatively.

He disappeared back into the dressing room and pulled the midnight blue dress off over his head to toss it lightly into the corner. He didn’t know why he was nervous for this particular outfit; he’d gone this far, what was the problem? He took a deep breath. In for a penny in for a pound, right? 

He purposely avoided looking in the mirror until he had everything adjusted. He lifted his head and immediately broke out into a smile. Phil had reservations when Clarke put the outfit together, but he should have trusted her. It had looked odd on the hanger, but on the body the slightly stiff material of the grey skirt looked fantastic. He wasn’t quite sure how designers seemed to literally imprint an understated floral pattern into the cloth itself, but it was so subtle that it was only truly visible when the light hit the thin golden threads lining the flowers. The doe-eyed girl had told Phil that the skirt was the statement piece here, so you have to go solid on the top. The plain, brown-gold blouse Clarke had suggested really fit well with it. At least, Phil thought.

He unlatched the fitting room door and stepped out slowly. The shop attendant clapped her hands enthusiastically. “Ooo, that looks so good!”

His face flushed and he looked down at his toes. “You don’t think it’s too out-there, do you?”

She tapped her finger on her lips. “I think it’s the brightest thing you’ve tried on so far, at least that I’ve seen. It is more attention-grabbing than your solid-colored regulars, but I like it. And I think you do too.”

Phil grinned and allowed her to snap a picture to send to his mate. Almost immediately after she pressed send, the phone buzzed in her hands. 

“Dan says: ‘#5 for sure. Perfect for tomorrow,’” Clarke read out. 

Phil closed his eyes and took a second to think. Clarke liked it. Dan liked it. He loved it. He knew he was already taking a risk with his plan for tomorrow, he was nervous about pushing it. But if he was going to do it, he might as well be as happy as he could be with himself… right?

He opened his eyes. “I’ll take it.”

 

 

Phil was beyond nervous. It was a matter of minutes until Louise was due to arrive, and he was seriously considering aborting the entire plan. The birthday dinner that Dan had planned needed to work around a handful of insane schedules, so they ended up having to make it more than two weeks early. Dan had started planning ages ago, but the friends had a rule not to do surprises for each other. At every turn Phil had steered it towards something more casual, and in the end they settled on a relatively low-key dinner with half a dozen friends at a nice steak house. 

He knew it was kind of dumb, but despite playing it down for Dan, Phil really loved his birthday. A holiday all about him with all of his friends was an absolute dream. He wanted to feel special …he wanted to feel like a princess. The second he realized this he talked to Dan about it; there were definitely risks. Awkward questions, fans taking pictures, media noticing and blowing it up on the internet. The more they talked about it, the more Phil realized that’s what he wanted. He didn’t want to make any sort of “coming out” video because he had no idea what he was supposed to come out as. Ideally, his change in self-expression wouldn’t even be worth noting, but Phil wasn’t naïve. Even though it nearly guaranteed him online attention, he thought this was the way to go. It was HIS birthday, god damn it. He was going to feel like a princess.

That was the decision he had come to, but deciding and acting are two completely different things. It was so much harder than he thought it would be to be stood in the living room, waiting for Louise to arrive. This part of the plan was supposed to make things easier; Phil would allow one person to see him fully dressed prior to dinner. That way he had more practice showing people before he was faced with six friends all at once. Louise had absolutely no idea why she was coming by the flat instead of meeting at the restaurant like everyone else, but Dan just assured her that nothing was wrong.

They had told her to be at the apartment fifteen minutes prior to when they should start heading out. Was that enough time? Would she ask too many questions to address in time and be left confused? Or maybe it was too much time. She would just awkwardly nod and then they would be sat in silence for a quarter hour. This was too much for Phil; he’d headed to his bedroom to change into trousers and a button down three times, but each time he turned back. He wouldn’t allow himself to chicken out now. He couldn’t. He began pacing the living room. He couldn’t decide if he wished she’d get there already or if he wanted her not to show at all. 

This is what Dan was greeted with when he walked in, still smoothing his hair and straightening his shirt. He offered his friend a smile and Phil acknowledged it only with a slight wave of his hand.

“It’s okay mate, calm down.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Phil replied gently.

Dan exhaled a laugh. “You have a point there. But I really think it will be fine. But if you’re still nervous, think about it this way: it’s just Louise. If showing her is too much, you can change back and we can always say you just wanted advice on if the outfit matched for a video or something.”

Phil bit his lip. He hadn’t thought of that. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, she might not believe that you needed advice. It’d be obvious to anyone that you look fantastic.”

He stopped pacing and took a deep breath. “Thanks.”

Dan opened his mouth to say something more but was cut off by the sound of the door buzzer. “You ready for this?” he asks. 

Phil nodded his silent approval. He was worried that if he went back now, he would never have the courage to try it again. He heard Louise and Dan’s enthusiastic greetings and general “how are you?”s, but he couldn’t make himself pay enough attention to make out the meanings of complete sentences. That was until he heard his name.

“So where’s Phil? I need to wish him a happy fake-birthday!” she exclaimed. 

He was surprised with how normal Dan sounded when he replied, “Just in the living room, I think he might want to have a quick chat with you.”

Phil felt his stomach twist at this. He wanted to run, but his feet felt like they were cemented to the carpet. When she passed through the doorway he made himself look her in the eye. She rushed to him and enveloped him in a hug. “Hi! Happy birthday, how’re you?”

“Uh, good,” he said, hesitating but eventually wrapping his arms around her as well.

Louise pulled back at looked him up and down, doing a miniature double-take at his skirt. He could see confusion pass through her eyes. “What’s all this?”

Phil’s mouth just gaped awkwardly and he looked to Dan for help. Dan responded with a smile and an answer on behalf of his friend. “We decided the dinner was just a little bit of a dress-up occasion, so he goes and decides to be the best put-together of the group in all likelihood. Puts my dress pants to shame, really.”

“B- …” she paused, and her facial expressions seemed to visually recognize something falling into place for her. She nodded slowly. “Well, give us a twirl then.” Phil did as he was told and tried to suppress a goofy grin when Louise said, “It is downright unfair how much better you look in an A-line skirt than I do. One second, I need the loo.”

After he heard the sound of the bathroom door click shut, Phil was almost bouncing with excitement. “That went so well!” Dan grinned.

“I know! Perfect way to start my pseudo-birthday!” 

“I know. I’m glad you’re doing this mate, but some of them might be a little more awkward then her, yeah?”

Phil nodded, but still felt that bubbly giddy feeling throughout his entire body. He had the most fantastic friends. He understood what his friend was saying and he was bracing himself for anything, but it was off to such a good start, he felt like he could handle the night even if it all went straight downhill. When Louise came back they sat down and talked about where they’d gotten their clothes and the best place to get rose-gold jewelry while Dan made three teas. 

He got some weird looks on the tube, but Dan and Lou were really good at distracting him. When they got to the restaurant he got one small child pointing at him and two confused friends asking for pictures and hugs (which he gave), but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he was prepared for. The world didn’t stop, he wasn’t chased by an angry mob. Phil got some awkwardly-phrased questions at the start of dinner, but things had settled by the time the bread came out. It was like a normal dinner, except he felt that glimmery feeling inside.

Phil was right about pictures of him in a skirt going viral. When he woke the next day to a fluff-news headline of “Youtube Sensation – Transgender?” on the side of his Facebook feed, he knew there were pictures up. His fans were asking him countless questions on every social media platform he had an account on and his friends and family were bombarding him with messages, emails, and texts. He sighed. It looked like he would have to make a video after all. Dan’s old words ran through his head, “If you’re happy and you know how you want to be referred to, why do you need a label?” It gave Phil hope. He could just explain how he felt as best he could to his fans, and if they started slapping labels and identities on him, he’d let it go. Most of them wouldn’t mean any harm by it. 

If Phil had been told two months ago that he would be in this position, he would never have believed it. But sitting down to plan his video he realized that this was a long time coming, and that he was the happiest and most excited he’d been in … he couldn’t remember. Who knew a shopping bag switch could lead to him acknowledging what he had been avoiding his whole life. 

Phil read over his video script, smoothed his shirt, and pressed record on his camera.

 

“Hey guys!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so much for reading all of this! I would love your thoughts on the fic as a whole and chapter 7 specifically. I'm considering doing another fic of about this length, so subscribe to me for that!


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil closed his eyes and mentally went through a few of the major points in his video script.
> 
> The skirt that started it all. The necklace. The dress Dan caught me in. The bracelet he gave me. The birthday outfit. The first blouse Mum saw me in. The outfit I was wearing when someone tried to push me into building. My first pair of heels.
> 
> He had been photographed in quite a few of these items, but he was nervous to spread it all out at once like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was scrolling through my AO3 stats and I started thinking about this fic. This was the first multi-part one I ever did. It was just supposed to be a way to kill time during my winter holiday, but your guys' support encouraged me to write more. Now I'm writing almost every day and considering taking a few classes next year at university.
> 
> I'm so thankful, I decided to add a little end note. I hope you enjoy it and don't think it ruins the piece.

He looked around his desk and sighed softly. His camera was charged, he had fiddled with the lighting until it was just so, and all of his needed materials were by his side. He just couldn’t get himself to press record. He knew he was being dumb. He wasn’t showing his fans any side of himself they didn’t already know about, he was just filling in the missing details.

Phil had been unsure when he’d first come up with the idea for the video, but when he ran it by his Dan he assured him it was brilliant. Part-haul, part- _what’s in my closet_ , part-story telling. He shifted in his seat and stared down at the neatly folded item on his lap. Nowadays he didn’t wear the short, polka-dotted skirt very often, but it was still one of his favorite items. It was that first domino that had started the chain reaction that landed him where he was today.

And what a place he was in. Ever since the post-birthday party explanation video had been uploaded, Phil had tried his best to express himself however he wanted. Some days that meant skinny jeans and a button-up and other days that meant a blouse and heels. When choosing his outfits he tried his damnedest not to think about whether or not he was filming that day or if he was going to be out and about much. Phil wanted to be honest with his audience, not tone things down for simplicity’s sake.

He wasn’t always good at it. The looks he got from people, the snide comments, the muttered remarks were a lot to handle. It was just so much easier dress inconspicuously, at least from the waist up. But not today. Today he’d picked out the most recent addition to his closet: a baby blue top with a beaded neckline and a flared bottom. His plan was to show off all of the new clothing items he’d gotten since December in the order in which he got them. Start with the skirt, end with last week’s impulse buy that he was currently wearing, telling a story behind each one.

Phil closed his eyes and mentally went through a few of the major points in his video script.

_The skirt that started it all. The necklace. The dress Dan caught me in. The bracelet he gave me. The birthday outfit. The first blouse Mum saw me in. The outfit I was wearing when someone tried to push me into building. My first pair of heels._

He had been photographed in quite a few of these items, but he was nervous to spread it all out at once like this. But then a smile twitched at the side of his mouth. He remembered the little girl on the tube who asked him if he was a princess. He remembered the teenager from the states who emailed him to thank him for speaking out. He remembered the pulled-aside _I’m proud of your bravery son_ conversation he’d had at his family birthday party. People were proud of him. Those who mattered were happy to see him so excited and shared in it with him. And some needed the positive influence, the evidence that maybe they too could be happy.

With all that in mind, Phil took a breath, shook his limbs out, and pressed record.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first work to be more than a one-shot, so I would love your reviews, advice, and opinions.


End file.
